


Wooing Peter Parker - Time Stamp

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Starker, mention of drug use but not relating to main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: another short one-shot about what happens nextPeter and Tony have someone to introduce to Iowa
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 155





	Wooing Peter Parker - Time Stamp

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wooing Peter Parker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466734) by [Neuropsyche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche). 



> hope you like it!

“What if they don’t like me…?”

Peter was driving, so he could only look in the rearview mirror, but Tony turned in the seat and looked back at the little boy that he, personally, had carefully buckled into the booster seat before they left the airfield.

“Of _course_ they’re going to like you, buddy. They’re your _grandparents_. They’ve been waiting for you forever.”

The boy’s eyes caught Peter’s in the mirror’s reflection, and Peter smiled and nodded.

“He’s right, River. You’ll see. They’ve been getting the house ready for you since we told them we were going to finally bring you out to visit. You’ll have to share a room with Richard, but he’s excited, too. It’s going to be great.”

River Stark didn’t look completely convinced, but he nodded, looking out the window of the rental car – probably amazed at so much open space and fresh air, Tony decided with a loving smile.

The little boy was only the newest (albeit one of the most _amazing_ ) additions to his life the past few years. And by far the most unexpected.

It had been one of Peter’s former roommates who had called. She was friends with a social worker who had a heartbreaking story of a young mother and her even younger son. The mother was an addict, was a prostitute and in a bad relationship with a man who took advantage of all of her insecurities and doubts and even used her son as a tool to keep her obedient. There had been calls to social services and the police, but by the time things were serious enough to warrant the authorities being able to step in to help, the mother had been killed in an accidental (probably) overdose, the boyfriend had been killed by a dealer who didn’t appreciate being called a cheating cocksucker and the little boy had vanished – only to be found hours later hiding behind a dumpster by a detective, who had immediately bundled him up and taken him to the station.

Well aware that Peter would help, and knowing that through his new husband of only five months he had access to pretty much unlimited wealth, she’d contacted her former roommate and had told him the story. She’d been thinking that maybe he’d be willing to donate some money to the foster home where the child had been placed while they waited to find him a real family – if they _could_. Peter, on the other hand, had wanted to meet the boy to make sure that he was well cared for, and had fallen in love.

At three and a half years, River Taylor was underweight and a bit behind in the development milestones compared to other children his age, but he was a sweet-natured child. Hair so blonde that it was practically translucent and blue eyes that were tired, scared and intelligent, he had taken one look at Peter and had grabbed onto him with both arms, holding him close.

Whether because he recognized the good in the young man, or because Peter just happened to resemble some other man that he’d once known in his short life, it clearly didn’t matter to the little boy – and it didn’t matter to _Peter_ , either.

But there were other people to consider, Peter knew, and he’d called Tony, interrupting a meeting to ask him if he was busy, and would he be interested in meeting a new friend of his. Always willing to have an excuse to leave a meeting, Stark had come, immediately, and had found his husband sprawled on the floor of the living room of the foster home playing tickle me with a tow-headed kid that Tony had never seen before.

Tony had been charmed by the scene, and by the child, when he’d been introduced. There had been several more visits with the boy, but really, they were just for the courts, and the social workers. It was a guarantee that River was going to eventually end up being Tony and Peter’s, it was just a matter of when. There was a birthday party when he turned four, and then they’d popped the question one night shortly after.

The day the papers were signed there was a huge media presence, but none of the press were allowed anywhere near River, and Peter and Tony kept their comments to a minimum. They took their son home from the courthouse, and installed him in the bedroom that had originally been a guest room, but was now decorated specifically for him, with a much smaller bed so he wouldn’t risk falling off in the middle of the night, and more toys than he’d ever really be able to play with.

May and Ben had been ecstatic, of course, but they were in the middle of planting season, and besides, May said, Tony and Peter needed a chance to get him settled, first. But then, when River was ready, they expected the little family to come for a visit to the farm.

An extended visit of several weeks, to give them a chance to get to know the boy better – and to give him a chance to know them.

Now the day was here, and they’d taken the private jet (no commercial air flight for River’s first attempt) and there had been a rental waiting on the tarmac when they’d landed in Iowa. Peter was looking forward to this meeting, and Tony was enjoying the anticipation. River was the only one that really needed convincing, although his big blue eyes were hopeful one moment and worried the next.

He knew what grandparents were, after all. He’d just never had any, before.

><><><><>

The wait was almost over, now, though. River’s entire being was straining to look out the window as they turned into the long drive that led to the farmhouse. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw the gaily painted banner that proclaimed a welcome home, and the three people waiting by the porch when the car came to a stop in front of the house were all smiling.

“Peter!”

Richard barely waited for the car to stop and rushed to the driver’s side to open the door for his cousin. Now eight years old, the boy was taller, had skipped yet another grade in school and was really beginning to show signs of the genius that he was destined to be. It didn’t hurt, certainly, that his cousin and Tony were constantly sending him learning aids, and interesting projects and crafts that only fed that intelligence.

“Hey, big man,” Peter said, hugging his cousin and swinging him up into his arms. “You’re so big.”

“Yep. Seventy-five pounds.” The boy grinned at Tony, who stepped out of the passenger seat. “Hey, Tony.”

“Hey, Richard. How’s Natasha?”

“She’s perfect, of course. How’s _your_ Natasha?”

“Sexy as ever. She said to tell you hello.”

The boy rolled his eyes, and Peter set him down as May and Ben stepped up to the car, peeking inside to get a look at their new grandson – and yes, they knew he wasn't, _exactly,_ a grandson, but he _was_ , anyway – and always would be.

It was Tony who opened the back door of the rental, smiling at May, and pushing the dog’s nose away from his crotch.

“Hey, May. Got someone here who wants to meet you…”

“Not as much as we want to meet him,” May replied, smiling at River, who reacted to the love in her expression with a smile of his own. “Hi, River. How was the trip?”

“It was fun.” He took Tony’s hand, letting his father help him out of the car, and then found himself swept up in loving arms that held him tight. His smile broadened, and he giggled when her lips brushed his ear, and he hugged her, back. “You’re really my grandma?”

“I _am_ ,” May confirmed. “Want to meet your grandpa?”

She turned toward Ben, turning River with her, and both of them looked at Ben, who smiled, reaching out one hand to brush his hand against the boy’s blonde head.

“Look at you,” Ben Parker said, shaking his head. “You have no idea how happy we are to meet you, little guy.”

Surrounded by love on all sides, it was clear that the little boy was just as happy to meet them. May turned her body, though, when Ben tried to take River from her.

“I just _got_ him. You go get the boys settled, and help Richard take their luggage inside. Then – _maybe_ – I’ll let you hold him.” She smiled at her grandson, who smiled up at her, eyes filled with happiness, and no trace of the doubt from earlier. “Do you like ice cream, River?” she asked. “We just made some – just for you.”

“He hasn’t had lunch, yet, May,” Peter reminded her, as they all headed for the house; all of them loaded with luggage, except May, who was carrying the best burden of them all. “You can’t ply him with sugar until-“

“Who’s the grandma?” May interrupted, pressing a kiss against River’s cheek, but smiling, fondly, at Peter.

The young man rolled his eyes.

“You are.”

“That’s right. So if River wants ice cream for lunch, then he can have ice cream for lunch.”

“I want ice cream for lunch, too,” Richard pointed out, slinging Peter’s backpack over his shoulder.

“You can have ice cream, too,” May promised. “Then we’ll have something a little more nutritious, and we’ll take River out and show him the farm.”

“And the _pony_?” Ben added, slyly, looking at the newcomer for his reaction.

Peter frowned.

“What pony?”

May gave him an innocent look.

“Did someone say _pony_? I didn’t hear anything about a pony…”

Tony smirked.

He wasn't concerned. A pony was just what a kid on a corn ranch in Iowa needed, after all It would give River a good reason to want to return. He watched as May cuddled the little boy close, kissing him, again, warmly, and decided that he probably didn’t need any other reason than that, but the pony would still be fun.

Maybe he could talk River into naming it Steve.

THE END  
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